Unofficial Book Reviewer: Tell us a little about the Lindbergh Foundation.
Reeve Lindbergh: It was established in 1977 to honor my parents [aviator Charles Lindbergh and writer Anne Morrow Lindbergh] by pursuing their vision of a balance between technology and the natural environment. The foundation offers grants and awards to people engaged in this work. I serve as honorary chair.

UBR: Under a Wing is filled with sensory details—the smell of fried herring, the feel of salt spray in a boat. You must have an exceptional memory.
RL: I think that for many of us, the memories of childhood are physical. It’s easier to remember an event, for instance, if you recall what you were wearing. Was it a party dress? Was it tied with a sash in the back? Tightly? Did it maybe feel a little scratchy? Often a whole host of memories will come back just from that kind of sensory detail.

UBR: Did you find your famous name a drawback when you were in school?
RL: I didn’t think much about it, frankly. My parents tried hard to let us live “normal” lives. We went to public schools, rode our bikes around the neighborhood, spent time with other kids who didn’t care about fame any more than we did.

UBR: Was there a particular moment when you knew you were going to be a writer?
RL: I’ve been writing ever since I could form words with a pencil, but like many writers I was uncertain whether I was really a writer for many, many years. Even now, I’m not always so sure.

UBR: What were your favorite books when you were a child?
RL: I loved C.S. Lewis, the Mary Poppinsbooks, and the Wizard of Oz series. Also Enid Blyton, Edward Eager, and anything by Eleanor Estes or Mary O’Hara.

UBR: You’ve spent the past several years editing your mother’s papers for Against Wind and Tide. Any surprises there?
RL: I was quite surprised to see the degree of self-effacement and deference in the early letters my mother wrote to my father. It was something I didn’t recognize in her. I knew her later, when she was the much more independent woman who spoke her mind—gently, but definitely—to everyone, including her husband.